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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947941">Behind What Can Be Heard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ace_place/pseuds/the_ace_place'>the_ace_place</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Soul Eater</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, American Sign Language, Cover Art, Deaf Character, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Sign Language, Slow Burn, Soul Eater Reverse Resonance Bang</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:35:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,476</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24947941</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_ace_place/pseuds/the_ace_place</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since he lost his hearing at 15, Soul’s been struggling to find his purpose. Now 20, he’s been waiting for something in his life to change-- until a certain college student walks into his life, determined to find a way through the walls he’s carefully constructed over the years. </p>
<p>Maka is a poet looking for inspiration, instantly intrigued by the heartbreakingly beautiful music coming from her favorite cafe-- and she’s inexplicably drawn to its source, a mysterious deaf pianist haunted by his past. </p>
<p>Together, they struggle to break down barriers the other has built, each hoping to find the song within the other’s soul; together, they try to break through the border of silence.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Maka Albarn &amp; Soul Eater Evans, Maka Albarn/Soul Eater Evans</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>124</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Chibi! Reverse Resonance Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Maka</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/azro_zee/gifts">azro_zee</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>“In the silence behind what can be heard lies the answers we have been searching for for so long.”  -Andreas Fransson</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <b>     I. Music</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The music was haunting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Its melancholic notes swung her into a dance, twirling and entangling her in their rhythm. It was so utterly captivating, and yet so incredibly mournful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The piano could speak, and it did not whimper but </span>
  <em>
    <span>wail</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Yet it pulled Maka into its melody. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a man sitting at the piano, in the cafe. She’d never seen him there before. He had a shock of snow white hair, sticking up wildly in every direction, but it suited him. He swayed back and forth, his fingers gently beckoning the piano’s song into the world of the hearing. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was an odd urge, Maka realized, to speak with him. She felt pulled to him, as though she needed to tell him that his music was haunting and beautiful and heartbreaking and there would never be words to truly describe it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’s drawn to him like a moth to a flame. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And still, he continued his dance. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before she reached the man that entices her so, she’s pulled aside by Black*Star, a barista at the cafe, and it is explained to her that the man would not hear her, for he’d forgone his hearing aids for the day. If she wanted to properly communicate, she’d have to write to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The song rattled about the inside of her head, and she knew that writing wouldn’t do. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She needed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>him. She needed to speak to him in a way much more meaningful than a hastily scribbled upon napkin. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The next time she enters the cafe, the pianist is not there. A deep, inexplicable disappointment grips her heart, and she leaves without getting coffee. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A week later, she approaches the cafe again, and a blossom of hope blooms within her as she hears a faint melody echoing gracefully down the street. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The music is just as hauntingly beautiful as the first time she heard it, and Maka feels it resonate somewhere deep within her soul. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She still does not speak with him, even though he turns his head and she can see the small outline of a hearing aid, barely visible beneath his mop of hair. Because she still doesn’t know the correct words to explain how she feels, she doesn’t know how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell</span>
  </em>
  <span> him in a meaningful way. So she waits. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sits and writes, for a while. She writes about his music, the complicated dance she finds herself drawn to. She writes about the echo of his song, how he pulls the threads of the melody from the piano and twists it into a world far more beautiful and heartbreaking than anything she’s ever heard before. She writes about the soul, and how music is so utterly connected to one’s self, and how she feels she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>the man through his music, despite the fact that they’ve never spoken before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And when she’s finished writing, Maka knows what to do. She knows how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>him, how to make him understand the way his music makes her feel. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She leaves the cafe with resolve buried deep within her heart. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>     II. Voice</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your music is heartbreakingly beautiful.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her lips moved along with her hands, drawing the words out slowly and carefully. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>A shocked expression flitted across the man’s face, surprise and confusion flickering in and out of view. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You know sign language?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am an ASL student. I wanted to tell you in your language.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka’s lips moved deliberately, her hands choppily forming the words needed. Her body language was nervous, curled in upon herself; but still, her message was understood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The pianist stared at her, mouth opening and closing a few times. Disbelief rippled across his face in waves, disappearing as soon as it formed. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Why?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka shifted uncomfortably, her nerves beginning to show themselves; for all her practice, it was still difficult to properly convey her message with a limited vocabulary. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Your music is heartbreakingly beautiful.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She paused for a moment, biting her lip. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I needed to tell you.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thank you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very much</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Ever so slowly, mischief began sneaking its way onto his expression. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Just how long have you been stalking me, waiting for the right moment to come talk?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka stiffened, eyes flashing, mouth agape. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You jerk!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I know, I know, I’m just joking.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He smiled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“My name is Soul Eater,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he continued, fingerspelling first and then drawing his left ring finger to his thumb, wiggling his right fist in an upwards line from his left hand; the letter S signed in the path of the word SOUL. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I am deaf.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Maka Albarn,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said, carefully forming each letter. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No name sign?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Not yet.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His hands wove words together seamlessly, christened with years of practice. Although Soul couldn’t audibly express himself, his expressions, body language, and demeanor spoke volumes of tone. And though she couldn’t hear his voice, Maka fell in love with it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>His voice was rough around the edges, blunt. He was sarcastic and taunting, cracking jokes and making witty remarks every other sentence. And although he teased her, she was able to tease him back, albeit slowly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Together they weaved conversations through the silence, Maka’s lips conveying the words she did not know how to say. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least until the manager on shift came to berate Soul for hanging around instead of doing his job.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka left reluctantly, but came back the next week. And the week after. And the week after that. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Because although he couldn’t hear, Soul </span>
  <em>
    <span>listened </span>
  </em>
  <span>to her in a way that no one ever had before. And Maka listened to him, too, letting his words wash over her like a tidal wave. For as cheesy as it was, Maka had never met a man like Soul.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was utterly and completely </span>
  <em>
    <span>original</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything about him was incredibly new and unique. Every time Maka left the cafe, she wished that she could stay longer, that their conversations would never have to end. Because she and Soul fit together in a way that she’d never felt with anyone else before; something just felt inherently </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span> when she was with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was embarrassing, really, how quickly she’d grown fond of Soul; it had been but a matter of weeks since their first real, 2-sided meeting. But she knew she didn’t regret it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul didn’t have an audible voice, but it was still there. It was in the details, the strange quirks that comprised his personality. It was reflected in his flashing red eyes every time he made a sharp remark. It was in his expressions and body language, composed of cunning and wit and emotion all at once.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And it was beautiful.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>     III. Moment</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She hadn’t realized until she’d reached her apartment that she’d left her notebook at the cafe. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when the realization set in, so did a cold hand of fear that gripped her heart, as she remembered that the notebook was filled with her thoughts and ramblings, many of which about Soul; she’d poured out her heart to her notebook and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>left sitting at the cafe for anyone to read</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Filled with a panicked determination, she went to grab a jacket suited for the bitter autumn weather; but no sooner than she reached the door, a knock rang out, startling her as she began turning the knob.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Peering through the peephole, Maka was greeted with a familiar explosion of white hair, a red eye staring back at her expectantly. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She opened the door and waved Soul in hastily, her nerves set alight with the possibility that </span>
  <em>
    <span>HE COULD HAVE READ THROUGH HER NOTEBOOK </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he wouldn’t do that without her permission, would he? Unless he didn’t know what it was? But he had to know, he’d seen her writing her thoughts in it countless times. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And how did he get her address? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Soul, hi! What are you doing here?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka squinted, realizing that perhaps she hadn’t spoken the way she wanted to. She fluttered her hand, searching for the proper words. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I mean, how did you know to come here?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul showed his shark-toothed smirk, red eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of her apartment. He pointed one finger towards the ceiling, rubbing a flexed hand with the thumb folded in against it; the letter B in the path of the word </span>
  <em>
    <span>star</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka sighed. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul dug into his messenger bag, pulling out a familiar battered notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She could have cried in relief.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul placed the notebook on a  nearby table so he could speak clearly. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>You left this behind. Black*Star told me where you lived so I could give it back.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>God, you’re a lifesaver. Thanks so much.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She narrowed her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t read it or anything, did you?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul smirked, eyes flashing. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“SOUL!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She grabbed her notebook from the table and whacked him upside the head with it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t, I swear! Geez,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he glowered, rubbing his head when he was finished speaking. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Ow.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka tucked the notebook under one arm, awkwardly attempting to sign despite its presence. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You deserve it, idiot,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said, pouting. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She maintained the expression for only a few seconds more before she cracked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Sighing, she said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“All right, I’m sorry or whatever. You can come in if you want.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Thanks,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Soul responded, kicking off his shoes after he saw her do the same. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve got a nice place for a college kid.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka rolled her eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Perks of being the Head of Athletics’ daughter. Trust me, I would much rather be in a shitty apartment than a nice apartment paid for by him.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“We can trade if you’d like.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Honestly, I wouldn’t be against it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She led Soul over to her couch, curling her legs underneath her as she sat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, I’ve been thinking</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Soul said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“You are in desperate need of a name sign. I hate having to fingerspell M A K A every time I talk to you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka raised an eyebrow. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that so? What kind of name do you have in mind?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I was thinking something like…” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Soul turned one hand flat, the other opening like an alligator mouth and then closing into an M. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“SOUL!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He was once again hit with the notebook.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“JESUS, MAKA, I was just joking!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, rubbing his head once again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“But seriously</span>
  </em>
  <span>… </span>
  <em>
    <span>you really do need a name sign</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul averted his eyes slightly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How about</span>
  </em>
  <span>... “ He drew his hand into his chest, forming a fist with his middle three fingers covering his thumb. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>An M, placed over the heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This way, we can be heart and soul. Get it?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he laughed nervously. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka blinked, a strange but warm feeling settling in her chest. She slowly reached up, fingers grazing her chest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I love it.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>   <strong>  IV.</strong> <b>Fear</b></p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is there anything you’re afraid of?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul blinked, glancing over at Maka. He was illuminated by the moonlight, white hair glimmering uncannily in the darkness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka shifted from where she was seated on the edge of the bench to look at him more directly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Like, what are you afraid of? What monsters hide under your bed at night?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Soul frowned. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, I get this reoccurring dream that kinda freaks me out. And I don’t like cars, that’s why I ride a motorcycle instead.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Really? Why not?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cool expression consistently worn upon Soul’s face flickered away for a moment; it reappeared less than a second later, plagued by uncertainty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Accident,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he signed. Soul’s hands, usually so steady and sure, formed the word slowly and loosely.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Maka said, silently deciding not to pressure him more. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m afraid of snakes, never liked them.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul raised an eyebrow, his expression back to normal as if nothing had occurred. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that all?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“They’re creepy, ok? I swear my school nurse in high school was a literal snake, she was terrible.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul grinned, eyes reflecting the moon like twin mirrors. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“One day you’ll tell me what you’re really scared of.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I did, ok? Snakes freak me out!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Soul said slowly</span>
  <em>
    <span>. “You didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But that’s ok. I won’t pressure you.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka wasn’t just afraid of snakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was afraid of a lot of things. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Abandonment, rejection, hopelessness. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Being imperfect. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Fear wrapped its way around her soul every time she saw her father flirting with someone new, terrified that it would be the final straw and her mother would leave for good. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Horror and disgust snuck into her chest every time she received less than a perfect on a test. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart raced every time she argued with a friend, fearing she’d offend them and they’d never forgive her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was afraid of fearing things. Because if she wasn’t courageous, wasn’t strong, wasn’t a pillar for others to lean on in their time of need, then what was she?</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She would be nothing. And that scared her more than anything else.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>     V. Together</b>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It had taken Maka months of writing and reflection to understand exactly what she wanted, what she longed for in the depths of her heart. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wanted to be together with him. And she was terrified because of it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was inexplicably, incomprehensibly drawn to him in every conceivable way. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The way his music entangled her in its complicated dance. The smooth yet rough voice that he portrayed so effortlessly, despite not having an audible sound. The way she let herself be vulnerable around him, and the way he was vulnerable in return. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first poem she’d written about him, way back when she was still deciding how to </span>
  <em>
    <span>tell </span>
  </em>
  <span>him that his music was heartbreakingly moving, was cursedly sappy. Yet if she’d attempted to rewrite it, she knew it would only be more so. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka has fallen, deeply and irrevocably. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she didn’t know if he’d fallen back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was raining, that day. Be it because of symbolism, or coincidence, Maka did not know; but the skies opened and poured regardless. Her clothes were soaking by the time she reached the cafe, the weather swift and unforgiving. But the cafe was warm and dry, cloaking her in a sense of comfort. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cafe was dark, closed; but still a haunting song echoed throughout its chambers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul was backlit by the single light on in the cafe, swaying back and forth. She knew he’d forgone his hearing aids, because he did not react when she called out to him. So Maka waited, allowing him to continue his dance for a moment that lasted seconds and years all at the same time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When the final notes of his dance concluded, Maka flicked a light, alerting him to her presence. But when he turned, and she saw the pure emotion in his eyes, something inside of her broke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was not her moment to intrude upon. It was not time yet. She’d made a mistake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She turned to leave without speaking, and he did not stop her. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She made her way out of the cafe, crumpling the paper she’d brought with her and placing it unceremoniously in her pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka continued down the street, the pouring rain doing nothing to slow her. Water droplets traced her face like tears, yet her eyes were dry. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something inside her felt empty. She hadn’t felt empty in a long time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>But when she reached the corner, she heard the distinct echo of footsteps running down the sidewalk, in her direction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>She whipped around, hair showering water in each and every direction, and of course was greeted by a pair of haunted red eyes because who else could it be? </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>They both said nothing, for a while. Soul was breathing hard, and his white hair gleamed silver in the light, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>God he was so beautiful </span>
  </em>
  <span>and yet he wasn’t trying to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment’s hesitation, Soul broke the silence by signing </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why?”</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry I intruded, Soul. I didn’t mean to-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why did you run?” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka shook her head, eyes beginning to shine with unexplained emotions. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It wasn’t time yet.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Time for what?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He frowned, the corners of his eyes turning down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maka shrunk, averting her gaze and biting her lip. She reached into her coat pocket, retrieving the previously disregarded crumple of paper. She offered it to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“This is for you. I wrote it when I first heard your music.” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul’s eyes scanned the paper, its ink slowly beginning to run, frown slowly lifting as he read the lines of the poem that had truly inspired Maka for the first time in her life. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was finished, he smoothed the paper and placed it in his pocket, eyes illuminated with something that Maka could not name. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>He opened his mouth, and then closed it again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soul reached for her, slowly and delicately. His hand grazed her face, brushing her dripping hair out of her eyes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Maka...” </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want to be with you,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she said, suddenly but full of an unexplained certainty. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Soul reached for her, and then she was in his arms, and he was in hers. And they fit together so flawlessly, so inexplicably perfectly. She knew, in that moment, that this place was where she was meant to be. </span>
</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>And she looked up at him, and he looked down at her, and then their lips met and for a moment, all was right in the world. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Soul</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     <strong>I. </strong><b>Music</b></p><p>
  
</p><p>To Soul, music was everything. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Music was his lifeblood, the one thing that kept him going no matter what. It was his saving grace, his one solace in the cold world that took so much from so many. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Music moved him, and he knew it moved others too. </p><p>
  
</p><p>When he was young, Soul was always told that his music was incredibly beautiful. He never let it go to his head, because he knew that the music wasn’t <em> his </em>. He was just the one that could bring it into the world for others to hear. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He always felt at home, sitting at a piano. There was something inherently <em> right </em>about the feel of the keys beneath his fingertips-- something about it was so comforting, even when nothing else was. </p><p>
  
</p><p>That was when he was young.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He was 15 years old when he lost everything. And all he’d ever worked for was ripped away from him in a single moment. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Hearing aids didn’t repair what had been lost. Although he could somewhat <em> hear </em> , they didn’t stop the constant <em> ringringring </em> that plagued him every hour of every day. </p><p>
  
</p><p>They were uncomfortable, and hurt his ears if he wore them too long, and he decided that he hated them even if he needed to wear them to communicate. </p><p>
  
</p><p>So he learned to read lips as accurately as possible, which often meant guesswork and estimation. He learned to sign, the words materializing through his hands almost as naturally as they would from his mouth. He only wore his hearing aids when absolutely necessary. </p><p>
  
</p><p>But despite the hearing aids, the practice, the therapy and the surgeries, nothing changed the fact that the music just sounded <em> wrong </em> . Something was off every time he tried to play. Some days he could barely hear himself play over the <em> ringringring </em>when the tinnitus was especially bad. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The compliments stopped. </p><p>
  
</p><p>The whispers behind his back turned from “<em> he’s going to be big” </em> to “ <em> his music is terrifying and haunting and dark.” </em> </p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul barely even noticed it happening. But just because he couldn’t hear himself growing darker and darker didn’t mean that others couldn’t sense it. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Despite the sound of his music growing gloomier by the day, he got a job at a local cafe.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He made friends there. Black*Star sort of became his <em> best </em>friend, somehow. </p><p>
  
</p><p>But still, his music sounded <em> wrong </em>every time he tried to play with his hearing aids. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> ringringring </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>He went unnoticed, hiding away in the small corner of the cafe where the piano was crammed away. And there he stayed, playing and playing and waiting for <em> something, anything </em> to change for once. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And then </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “Your music is heartbreakingly beautiful.”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <strong>     II. Voice</strong>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>And <em> god, </em>her voice was beautiful. It ebbed and flowed, strong and confident but not without its occasional cracks and breaks. It was imperfect, occasionally squeaky and sometimes annoying, but the imperfections were what made it faultless. </p><p>
  
</p><p>When they first met, she spoke slowly, her hands forming words choppily, and instantly Soul knew that she was new to sign language. She wasn’t using her body language at all, instead standing withdrawn, somewhat nervously; but Soul was wearing his hearing aids, so he could understand her tone and inflection regardless. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And he was so, so glad he could. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Ever since their first conversation, when Maka told him that his music was heartbreakingly beautiful, they’d started seeing each other at the cafe regularly. It became a bit of a tradition, them meeting every week, her pulling up a chair and talking to him as he played. </p><p>
  
</p><p>(He talked back, but not too often-- he was working, after all.)</p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka was easy to talk to, able to carry half of a conversation on her own. Soul appreciated it, as he wasn’t much of a conversationalist, but occasionally he had trouble keeping up with her fast-paced thinking. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He didn’t mind, though. Maka could talk a mile a minute, especially once she expanded her vocabulary and practiced ASL a bit, and he could listen to her for hours without complaining.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Because her voice was so, <em> so </em>beautiful. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was a musical instrument, creating its own unique song every time she uttered even a single word. Even through his less-than-perfect hearing aids, and even without them at all, he could still understand. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Because her voice wasn’t just her <em> voice, </em> really. It was in the way she carried herself, the way she made that <em> one specific face </em>whenever he teased her. It was in the way she moved, the way she formed words. It was in the way she got flustered and angry and excited and every other possible emotion, because she wore her heart on her sleeve and he could always sense what she was feeling.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul hadn’t really noticed until he went deaf, but someone’s voice was so completely and utterly connected to their inner self. And it didn’t have to be the audible things-- it’s within one’s subtle nature, the intricacies of someone’s personality. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And he’d never heard someone like Maka before.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul starts wearing his hearing aids a little more, when she’s around. Because even though a voice doesn’t have to be audible, he still likes listening to her speak. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Her voice was a symphony, and he could listen to it for hours and hours. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Something was happening to Soul, when he was around Maka. But he was fairly sure that he didn’t mind. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <b>     III. Moment</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>In sign language, names are important. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It’s inconvenient to fingerspell every time someone’s name comes up in conversation, and it’s also inconvenient to shorten their name to letters or initials as it quickly becomes confusing. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And so, name signs came into being. </p><p>
  
</p><p>If he was being completely honest, Soul <em> loved </em> name signs. They were one of the things he thought were much better than their audible equivalent. They were special, <em> unique </em>to each person, no matter if they were related to someone’s visual appearance or their personality. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And to Soul, names were a new opportunity.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul had a complicated relationship with his name, even back when he was hearing. So when he received his name sign, he also changed his written name, and became Soul Eater. And it felt <em> good. </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>From then on, Soul secretly loved assigning people name signs. Because it was <em> special </em>, an intimate moment shared between friends, and he wanted his friends to feel as happy as he did when he received his new name. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It took him way too long to come up with Maka’s name sign. But he really needed it to be special, so he waited. </p><p>
  
</p><p>When Maka left her notebook at the cafe, Soul was admittedly curious. Honestly, he desperately wanted to see what she was constantly writing about, burying her nose in the notebook like she does. But he respected Maka’s privacy, and as much as he wanted to be a terrible person in that moment, he resisted. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He returned her notebook to her, and gave her something more. </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “This way, we can be heart and soul. Get it?” </em>He let out an involuntary nervous laugh. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka looked at him with her ridiculously green eyes, blinking slowly a few times. Her face was unreadable, and it set Soul’s nerves on fire. </p><p>
  
</p><p>What if she refused the name? Or secretly didn’t like it? Or someone in her ASL class already gave her a name and she hadn’t told him yet? </p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka’s fingers gracefully reached up, grazing her chest delicately. She looked down, and then back up at Soul.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “I love it,” </em>she said, smiling widely. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And a warm, light feeling settled in Soul’s chest. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “Really? It’s fine if you don’t like it, I just thought-”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “Soul.” </em>He stopped signing, distracted by Maka’s voice. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “I really do love it. Now we can match! Black*Star’s gonna be so jealous, I bet he’d love to match with you.”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul grinned. <em> “If you want, I can give that name to him. You can be the star.”  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “Please, I already AM the star.” </em> Maka winced. <em> “Don’t tell Black*Star I said that. He’ll lecture me for hours about his greatness.” </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul laughed, tilting his head back in amusement. <em> “Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>And when Maka smiled at him, her emerald eyes shining with happiness, Soul knew that he was far gone. Maka was just like her voice, beautiful and raw and unique, and he was falling for her. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He’d been falling ever since they met. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>     IV. Fear</b>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>The crash happened suddenly, without warning. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was loud, Soul remembers. He doesn’t remember exactly what it sounded like anymore, but he remembers that it was loud. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He didn’t pass out immediately, even though he hit his head <em> hard </em>. Instead, he laid trapped beneath a twisted piece of metal, unable to move and ears ringing so loudly he couldn’t hear Wes from where he was lying less than four feet away. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He remembers seeing Wes’s face, his brother crying in pain, saying something but his words remaining forever unheard.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Being stuck there, frozen, <em> helpless, </em>for what felt like eons? That wasn’t something Soul would wish upon his worst enemy. </p><p>
  
</p><p>It was hell. And as he laid there, the <em> ringringring </em>grew louder and louder until there was nothing left. </p><p>
  
</p><p>As he told Maka these things, he saw her face darken slowly, until she looked away in sorrow. </p><p>
  
</p><p>And this was why he never told anyone, never spoke to a soul about what happened. Because they pitied him, treated him like he was weaker, just because of one terrible crash that ripped away his life and built him a new one. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He’d hoped that Maka wouldn’t react with pity. Soul wouldn’t be able to bear it if he lost her to something like this. But they’d been friends long enough that she deserved to know, <em> should </em>know why he was this way. </p><p>
  
</p><p>But as she looked away from him in sorrow, he knew he’d made a mistake. He could see it in her body language, that she felt weighed down by what she’d heard, that she wishes he hadn’t told her. </p><p>
  
</p><p>As he turned to leave, a tug on his sleeve startled him, and he turned to face Maka once again. </p><p>
  
</p><p>She paused for a moment, collecting herself. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “Soul… I’m so sorry.” </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>And there it was. </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “I’m sorry that happened to you, but I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me. I know that was hard for you. But you are so incredibly strong, and I’m so proud of you for overcoming something like this.” </em> She frowned. <em> “You didn’t deserve this. No one deserves this. But…”  </em></p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul felt something in his heart settle. Because as she finally met his eyes, he saw with certainty that it was not pity but support in her expression. And that was the most comforting thing he could have found. </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “...But is it selfish of me to be glad that life has led you down this path? So that we could have met, we could have become friends?”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul met her eyes, returning her look of support with one of understanding. <em> “Maka, I wouldn’t change anything that happened. Because it’s part of who I am.” </em> He smiled sadly. <em> “And you’re part of who I am now, too.”  </em></p><p>
  
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next time Soul saw Maka, she was sobbing. </p><p>
  
</p><p>He’d gone to her apartment, as she’d left her notebook at the cafe once again. But oddly, she didn’t come to the door, although she was clearly home-- the light was shining under the door, and he could see fresh footprints from the rain earlier in the day. </p><p>
  
</p><p>After pounding on the door for a good while, he broke down and tried the doorknob; the door swung open with surprising ease.</p><p>
  
</p><p>The apartment seemed eerily still. Even the <em> ringringring </em>that constantly plagued Soul’s mind faded to the background as he followed the trail of turned-on lights to the living room. </p><p>
  
</p><p>There he found her, curled upon a couch, facing away from him and trembling ceaselessly. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul blinked, concerned. He flicked the light a few times to alert Maka to his presence, as she hadn’t heard him enter. </p><p>
  
</p><p>When she turned around, Soul could instantly see that something was wrong. He’d seen Maka cry before, but not like this. Never like this. </p><p>
  
</p><p>So he sat down beside her, and he held her.</p><p>
  
</p><p>He held her for a long time. He held her until the shaking subdued, held her until the tears gradually ceased. When Maka was finally able to breathe, she buried her head in Soul’s chest and stayed there until his shirt was damp from the remaining tears dripping down her face.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul didn’t know how to ask, so he said nothing. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka eventually lifted her head and sat back in her seat, looking Soul in the eye. She took a shaky breath. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“My mom,” she said shakily, “left my dad for good.” </p><p>
  
</p><p><em> “I’m sorry </em>,” he said, as sincerely as possible. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“How…” she continued, pausing for a breath, “Why does my dad insist on cheating? What do they have that my mom doesn’t?” </p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “I wish I knew, Maka. I’m sorry I don’t.”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>“I don’t understand! Why doesn’t he love her like he used to? Is it that they’re prettier than her?”</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul pulled Maka into his chest again, offering the only comfort he knew how to give. And although he wasn’t wearing his hearing aids, and he couldn’t hear how loud he was, and his voice was creaky from years of unuse, he opened his mouth and he <em> spoke </em>.</p><p>
  
</p><p>“Oh, Maka. The shape of someone isn’t important. It’s the soul that matters.” </p><p>
  
</p><p>   <strong>  V.</strong> <b>Together</b></p><p>
  
</p><p>Sun shone through the window, illuminating Maka beautifully as she slowly awoke to the smell of tea. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“<em> Thanks, Soul </em>,” she murmured sleepily, fingers dropping a bit as she signed. He smiled in response. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Her hair was messy, and her clothes were wrinkled, and she was still waking up, but Maka had never looked more beautiful. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul set the tea down on the bedside table, kissing Maka’s forehead gently as she moved to sit up. He sat beside her, as she picked up the teacup and leaned her head against Soul’s shoulder. </p><p>
  
</p><p>She blew on the tea, attempting to cool it, as Soul wrapped his arm around her side, pulling her in closer. Maka smiled up at him sleepily, and it was enchanting. </p><p>
  
</p><p>“I really love you, you know,” she whispered, barely loud enough for his hearing aids to pick up.</p><p>
  
</p><p>Soul’s eyes widened in shock, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. </p><p>
  
</p><p>They’d never said those words to each other before. </p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka returned to her tea, seemingly unaware of what had occurred. Perhaps she thought he couldn’t hear her, or perhaps she hadn’t meant to say it at all.</p><p>
  
</p><p>But say it she did, and although it was but a whisper, it was the loudest thing Soul had ever heard.</p><p>
  
</p><p>One arm still holding her, Soul fingerspelled, whispering along with the movement.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em> “I love you, too.”  </em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Maka smiled contentedly, leaning her head back against Soul’s shoulder. He gently kissed the top of her head, turning to face the rising sun. </p><p>
  
</p><p>There they stayed, watching the sun rise in silence, simply enjoying the other’s company. There they sat, having said the three most important words possible, and knowing the other understood. There they waited, knowing that much more would happen that day, and every day after that. </p><p>
  
</p><p>That moment of silence was perhaps the most important moment of all.</p><p>
  
</p><p>And they felt it together.  <br/><br/></p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>All credits for the art go to azroazizah, my wonderful Reverb partner!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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